


Good Intentions

by rosetaltion



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Dark, Dark Harry, Dark Harry Potter, Dark Magic, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Good Slytherins, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin Rivalry, Harry Potter Has a Different Name, Harry is Lord Black, Harry is Lord Potter, Master of Death Harry Potter, Morally Grey Harry Potter, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Not Epilogue Compliant, Older Harry, Powerful Harry, Slytherin, Slytherin Harry Potter, Slytherins Being Slytherins, Tags Are Hard, Tags May Change, The Author Regrets Nothing, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 11:39:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20191675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosetaltion/pseuds/rosetaltion
Summary: After being killed by Voldemort, Harry goes back in time to sort things out.What will he do when he realises he has been fooled by Dumbledore and his so-called friends into becoming a weapon for the light?What will he become once he has claimed his inheritance and become the Lord of multiple pureblood families?





	Good Intentions

Everything was white. It didn’t make that much sense to Harry, until he realised he was dead.

Still, he’d expected the afterlife to be somewhat gloomier, or at least a little bit less like Kings Cross Station. It wasn’t like he had believed there was an afterlife to start with, but he hadn’t believed in souls either until Dumbledore had sent him on a mad quest to find the horcruxes. The British countryside? Really? If he ever saw Dumbledore again, he would make sure to inform him that the lack of information was rather counterproductive.

What were you supposed to do when you were dead? The train station, or, in fact, the afterlife was completely empty. Surely there was supposed to be some sort of magical being nearby, like the grim reaper or an angel or something. Or was this it? Was he supposed to spend eternity just standing around? Was the boredom why ghosts wanted to avoid moving on so badly?

The air shimmered and then there was Death. The being, if it could be called a being, was absent one second and visible the next. Harry noticed that it had no comprehensional form or shape, but seemed to change every few moments regardless. Eventually, Death appeared to solidify, and began to speak.

“Harry Potter,” it said, in a voice which sounded like thunder, “You are dead.”

“I’ve sort of gathered that,” Harry replied, his voice weary. Death seemed to laugh, but it was hard to tell, given that it didn’t quite have a body.

“You are more accepting of your fate than most.” it noted.

Harry grimaced. “Well, I’ve come close to dying before. It’s happened about once each year since my parents were killed, either due to Voldemort or the Dursleys or something else.” he paused for a second, frowning, “There was Quirrelmort in my first year, then the diary and the basilisk, then in third year Remus turned into a wolf. In fourth year it was Voldemort again, same in fifth, and in the sixth year there was the inferi and all that. It’s not a surprise that I was hit with a killing curse since everyone’s been trying to off me in some way or another since I was a baby.”

“That is abnormal.” said Death.

“So what’s going to happen now I’ve finally… passed on?” asked Harry. His tone was grim. He hoped it wasn’t eternal torture, because that would be a pain. Literally.

“You could go back,” Death answered. “You could go on to another life, or you could stay here and wait for others to pass on.”

He didn’t know what to choose. On one hand, he could finish the battle, help the Order take care of the aftermath of killing Voldemort. On the other, he could go somewhere where he wasn’t in mortal danger ninety percent of the time. Staying here wasn’t even an option - it would be far too boring. After a few minutes of thought, he managed to think of a solution to his indecision.

“Death,” Harry mused, “If I was to go back, could I choose when I went back to?”

“Within reason.”

“Could I go back to when I was eleven?”

“Easily.”

“Would I keep my memories of… all this?”

“It is possible.”

Harry made up his mind. “I’ll do that, then.”

Death seemed to consider something for a moment. It seemed to flicker between shapes faster than the eye could see, and then it had a body. Death was now, seemingly, tall and feminine, with waist length black hair and a long dress covered in constellations. It - or she, or they, or something else entirely - paused for a second, before addressing Harry’s raised eyebrow.

“I am Death.” said Death, “A form, to me, is nothing but another piece of clothing, like a new shirt or robe.” Harry decided that he couldn’t argue with that.

kyuNothing about this made any sense, but that wasn’t particularly new at all. Once you’ve spent a decent amount of time in the wizarding world, he reckoned, you just learn to take things in your stride. Magic itself didn’t make any sense unless you studied the complex theories behind it, and Harry really didn’t care about that, so he figured that he was okay with whatever nonsense he was dealing with.

Death looked thoughtful. It was a lot easier to tell, now that the not-quite-being had a body. “Before I send you back,” it began, “I would like to offer you advice. As soon as you can, take an inheritance test.”

Harry nodded sheepishly.

“And remember - Magic does not come in shades of its own volition. Even the spells that are often used to cause harm can heal in the right hands.”

Before Harry could reply to Death’s cryptic words he felt a strange sensation in his stomach. It wasn’t exactly pain, but it still made him lose footing and crash to the floor. The sensation spread like a fire throughout his body, and if he was able to see himself, he would notice his body shrinking. Within seconds the not-pain had climbed his chest and began to engulf his head. He clenched his eyes shut instinctively.

When he opened them again, everything had changed.

He was lying on the floor - a damp floor, stone tiled - in a wooden hut. In front of him was a digital watch that declared the time to be a few seconds after midnight. The thirty-first of July, nineteen-ninety-one. His eleventh birthday. Why was it-

Then he remembered. He was dead, or at least, he had been, and in his preteen body. He was skinny, abnormally so, not yet able to eat the proper amounts of food he needed because of his relatives. His hair was just as messy as always, and his glasses were held together with tape. Despite the fact that he was supposed to be sleeping, he didn’t have any sort of pillow, let alone a mattress. His clothes were far too large for him as well. He’d have to fix that as soon as he managed to get his money.

Just like the last time, there was a loud knock on the door, then another. Dudley bolted upright and, still half-asleep, said something about cannons, whilst Vernon grabbed his rifle and pointed it in the general direction of the knocker. “Who’s there?” he shouted, in exactly the same manner as he had before, then announced that he was armed. Nothing happened for a moment, then the door swung off its hinges. A flash of lightning from the storm outside illuminated the silhouette of a gigantic man - Hagrid. The half-giant squeezed into the hut, picked up the door, and gingerly slotted it back into its frame. 

“Couldn’t make us a cup of tea, could yeh? It’s not been an easy journey…” Hagrid said, walking over to the sofa, where Dudley sat with eyes wide with terror. “Budge up, yeh great lump,” The obese child squeaked, as if he was trying to do an impression of a mouse, and ran to hide behind Petunia, who was already hiding behind Vernon herself. The sight was even better than when Harry had last experienced it, since now he knew that the giant was one of the few people who wouldn’t try and harm him.

“An’ here’s Harry!” exclaimed Hagrid, his wide smile obscured by his thick beard. “Las’ time I saw you, you was only a baby,” he said, “Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yer’ve got yer mum’s eyes.” Harry opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by Vernon making an odd rasping noise.

“I demand that you leave at once, sir!” he said. “You are breaking and entering!”

Hagrid grabbed the gun out of Vernon’s meaty fingers and bent it into a knot as if it was made of rubber. The broken weapon was then abandoned in a corner of the hut. “Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune,” he said, whilst Vernon’s face got redder and Petunia’s face grew pale. “Anyway - Harry, a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here - I mighta sat on it at some point, but it’ll taste all right.”

The half-giant pulled a cardboard box out of his black overcoat. It had squished corners and traces of icing on the lid. Harry, knowing what it was this time around, opened the box. He picked up a little bit of icing and ate it off his finger. Despite the messy presentation, it tasted decent. “Thank you,”

Hagrid smiled, then looked around the room. “Ah, I forgot ter introduce meself.” He shook hands with Harry, who had to grip onto the moth-eaten furniture to avoid being lifted up into the air. “Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. What about that tea then, eh?”

“Hogwarts?” asked Harry, in an attempt to move the conversation on. Hagrid was nice, but he’d already been through all of this before. This body - his eleven year old body - was tired due to the late hour and a lack of nutrition, so he wanted to receive his letter and go to sleep. It would definitely take a while for him to adapt to everything that had changed.

Whilst pulling a variety of items out of his coat, Hagrid replied, his voice shocked. “Yeh don’t know about Hogwarts?” 

“Uh, sorry?” Harry said, only because he’d said it before.

“  
” barked the half-giant, who had now found a pack of sausages. Harry wondered how they were still fresh, before realising the answer was probably magic. “It’s them that should be sorry! I knew yeh weren’t gettin’ yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn’t even know abou’ Hogwarts, fer cryin’ out loud! Did yer never wonder where yer parents learnt it all?”

“All what?” 

“All what?” Hagrid shouted, rising to his feet. “Now wait jus’ one second!” In his anger he seemed to fill the whole hut. “Do you mean ter tell me that this boy - this boy! - knows nothin’ abou’ - about anything?”  
“...Hagrid?” Harry interrupted, seeing how the Dursleys were cowering against the wall. He didn’t care if they were the targets of Hagrid’s anger at all, really, but was certain that he’d prefer everyone to shut up and hurry up with the conversation. “Can you tell me about my parents while you cook those sausages?” he asked.

Hagrid looked embarrassed about the way he had been shouting. Petunia looked like Harry had grown a second head. Dudley whimpered in the corner. “Harry - yer a wizard.” said the half-giant, roasting the sausages over a roaring fire that wasn’t there seconds before.

Harry did his best to look appropriately surprised and not like he had known for the past seven years. Or the future seven years. Time travel was confusing. “I’m a   
” he gasped.

“A wizard, o’ course,” said Hagrid, “an’ a thumpin’ good’un, I’d say, once yeh’ve been trained up a bit. With a mum an’ dad like yours, what else would yeh be? An’ I reckon it’s abou’ time yeh read yer letter.”

Harry stretched his hand out to take the envelope. Making sure to keep the awestruck expression on his face, he skimmed through the letter. It was exactly as he’d remembered it, which was unsurprising.  
After what seemed like a believable amount of time, he looked up. Hagrid offered him a sausage, which he quickly ate.

“I don’t have an owl,” he said. Hagrid looked a little bit annoyed at himself for forgetting, then pulled an alive, rather grumpy looking, owl out of a pocket and put a response into its mouth before throwing it into the storm. The Dursleys looked shocked, and Harry supposed they were sort of right to be. Who - aside from Hagrid - carries a bird around in their pocket?

“Where was I?”

Uncle Vernon stood up, his face almost purple. “He’s not going.” said the large Muggle, moving to stand between Hagrid and Harry. 

“I’d like ter see a great Muggle like you stop him,” said the half-giant. Vernon bristled, despite not knowing what a Muggle was. The Dursleys, minus Dudley, who looked like he had just seen a ghost, tried to tell Hagrid that Harry wouldn’t be attending a school of magic, but they were clearly scared of their opponent. At one point, Petunia started ranting about Lily being a witch, which would have been fairly entertaining to Harry if it wasn’t about his mother. 

When Petunia got to the bit in her tirade about the Potters’ deaths, Harry felt like he needed to interrupt before everything went even more sour. “How did my parents die?” he asked softly, knowing that it would stop the shouting. It was one in the morning, why did they have to have this conversation now?

“Ah, Harry, I don’t know if I’m the right person teh tell yeh,” Hagrid started, lowering his voice, “but someone’s gotta - yeh can’t go off ter Hogwarts not knowin’.” He threw a dirty look at the Dursleys. “Well, it’s best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh - mind, I can’t tell yeh everythin’, it’s a great myst’ry, parts of it…” He sat down next to Harry.

“It begins, I suppose, with - with a person called - but it’s incredible yeh don’t know his name, well - I don’ like sayin’ the it if I can help it. No one does.”

Harry nodded, knowing that the explanation would take longer if he was to ask about it. He could always claim to have read up about anything Hagrid missed later.

“This wizard went… bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. This - this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started lookin’ fer followers. Got ‘em, too - some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o’ his power, ‘cause he was gettin’ himself power, all right. Dark days, Harry. Didn’t know who ter trust, didn’t dare get friendly with strange witches or wizards…Terrible things happened. He was takin’ over. ‘Course, some stood up to him - an’ he killed ‘em. Horribly. One o’ the only safe places left was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore’s the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn’t dare try takin’ the school, not jus’ then, anyway.”

He paused for a second. “Now, yer mum an’ dad were as good a witch an’ wizard as I ever knew. Head Boy an’ Girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the myst’ry is why You-Know-Who never tried to get ‘em on his side before… probably knew they were too close ter Dumbledore ter want anythin’ ter do with the Dark Side. Maybe he thought he could persuade ‘em… maybe he just wanted ‘em outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where you was all living, on Hallowe’en ten years ago. You was just a year old. He came ter yer house an’ - an’ -”

Hagrid pulled a dirty handkerchief and blew his nose with a sound like a foghorn. “Hagrid,” Harry said, “You don’t have to tell me this if it upsets you.”

The half-giant shook his head. “Yeh got ter know, Harry. You-Know-Who killed yer parents. An’ then - an’ this is the real myst’ry of the thing - he tried to kill you, too. Wanted to make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin’ by then. But he couldn’t do it. Never wondered how you got that mark on yer forehead? That was no ordinary cut. That’s what yeh get when a powerful, evil curse touches yeh - took care of yer mum an’ yer dad an’ yer house, even - but it didn’t work on you an’ that’s why yer famous, Harry.”

“What happened to… the evil wizard?”

“Good question, Harry. Disappeared, Vanished. Same night he tried ter kill you. Makes yeh even more famous.”

That was great. Why hadn’t he asked Death to make him a little bit less hero-worshipped by everyone? Surely a reality-altering personification of death could make people change their opinions of a child? Harry didn’t want to go through the whole Boy-Who-Lived thing all over again, that was definitely a drawback of the whole re-living thing.

When Harry didn’t respond, Hagrid looked a little bit lost. “It’s getting late and we’ve got lots to do tomorrow,” he said. “Gotta get up ter town, get all yer books an’ that.”

It was a shame that Dudley hadn’t been turned into a pig yet, but that could always be amended at some point. Damn conflict de-escalation, Harry thought, he would have liked to see that again.

**Author's Note:**

> Does anyone know what pronouns I should give Death? I honestly can't decide.
> 
> Most of this chapter has been taken from canon, but with subtle changes.


End file.
